


Smoke and Mirrors

by unbroken_halo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comeplay, Community: daily_deviant, Dominance, Kinky Kristmas Fest, M/M, Oral Sex, Smoking, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3159677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbroken_halo/pseuds/unbroken_halo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I never was one for taking orders, but these games we play, these moments of give and take, fulfil me like none other. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elfflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfflame/gifts).



> Written Dec 2014 Kinky Kristmas on Daily Deviant for Elfflame. Many thank yous to Celestlyn for her lightening fast onceover. *smooches*

He sits in a fat, cushy chair, the table beside him holding the drink I've just prepared. His legs spread slowly, opening sensually, and just far enough to give me an enticing view of the bulge of his crotch. His cock, firm and full beneath those Muggle denims, is ready and waiting for me. Just like I am ready and waiting for his commands.

Pale, bare feet rest lightly on the floor and he looks ever so relaxed, but I know he could spring to his feet, wand sliding into his palm in an instant. The tension is there, for both of us, but it is a challenge to make this seem a simple thing. It is also rewarding. He asks and I do, and it's as simple as that, no need to make it more complicated.

I never was one for taking orders, but these games we play, these moments of give and take, fulfil me like none other. It's not a full time game, nor is it just in the bedroom, but something more. Some change in the way we do things. A thing we both need as it gives us balance. And so I wait for his commands. There is no anticipating what he wants because that, too, could change at any moment.

I watch him, his hands are restless, fingers flexing as if he's just itching to touch, but he denies us both that particular pleasure for now. That makes me smile because I know him. It won't last long because he just has to touch, and so do I, for that matter. And while there are times, I know exactly what he wants; he makes me work for it.

Because that's how we want it.

His fingers finally settle and I see him reach into the pocket on his shirt. Out comes a slim, silver case and I nearly forget everything we planned for tonight when he clicks it open. This was one thing we hadn't spoken about, but it isn't unwelcome. In fact, it is a pleasure in and of itself to know he's thought of this small thing just for me.

And I adore him because of it. Because he thought of it without my asking, knowing I wouldn't request it, just because it has been so long since I indulged.

Licking my lips, I watch him draw out a slender cigarette. The tobacco is so rich I can smell it even a few feet away, and he's not even lit the bloody thing. The fag is slowly twirled between his slim fingers, the white of the paper looking especially clear in the flickering candlelight.

The floating tapers burn brightly and illuminate the room with a soft warm glow. It's just dark enough that the lights aren't overpowering, but it also allows me to witness his each and every action. Like when he does set flame to the cigarette.

The scent of sulphur comes next; the match scrapes and flares and I groan. He chuckles and I can't help but laugh with him. I know what the sounds I make do to him, so I make more noise. Humming and hissing as he places the cigarette to his lips and the fire to the end.

The paper burns and the tobacco ignites, sizzling as it catches. The scent deepens and I breathe it in, closing my eyes to enjoy the fragrance. I don't keep myself in the dark for long though because I have to watch his lips purse while he smokes for us both.

The cherry tip flares, burning brighter as he inhales and I suck in a breath with him despite not having a fag of my own. The smoke rises in a thin, wispy line as he continues to drag on the cigarette. I hold my breath now, knowing that in a moment he will breathe out the fragrant aroma of aged tobacco, cloves and rose hips. It's a potent blend, and again, Muggle in origin. Something I never thought I would enjoy, but there it is.

The fog he exhales blasts from his mouth as if sprayed from a hosepipe, and again, I repeat his actions, blowing with him. The white fumes fill the space between us and I inhale deeply. It's just a tease, though. I can smell it, can almost taste it, and him, in the breath I greedily consume, but it is only a whisper of the real pleasure of smoking.

His other hand rises and two fingers beckon me forward. I drop to my knees and move closer. He shifts as I approach then he holds up a hand, flicking his wrist as if motioning me away. Pausing, I spread my arms and wait while he examines me.

I can almost feel his gaze as it crawls over my body and I shiver for him. Just like his Muggle jeans, worn for me, I too, wear something special. For him. Short pants and nothing else. My body's on display for his pleasure and I like showing it off. But these clothes are not something that a schoolboy might wear, although I have some of those as well. No, these are nowhere near so innocent.

Black as night, and form-fitting, the dragon hide pants cling to me like as second skin. The seams cut into my thighs and cup my arse, encasing my center in a shiny package. The rest of me, pale and scarred, is exposed to his eyes and I can't help but preen.

I adjust my stance, arching my chest for him, and hear the creak of the leather between my thighs. Just to tease him, to show him what our game is already doing to me, I run my hands down my pants, grasping the legs of the cloth and pulling the taut material even tighter.

My dick throbs under the pressure and I lean my head back, showing off the line of my throat that is there, ready and willing to take his teeth if he so chooses. But once more he denies us that amusement. He moves, languid and slow like a cat on the prowl, his vibrant green eyes still taking in each and every inch of me. Leaning forward, he drags on the cigarette again and whispers "Service me… if you want a taste." 

This time the smoke curls lazily out of his mouth, slowly caressing his lips as he speaks and I hurry forward. I am still uncertain what I've done to deserve this double reward, but I am not going to deny him. Or myself. And for the life of me, I can't decide if it is him or the cigarette I want more. On this, though, I won't lie to myself; I want both. Together and at the same time.

He leans back in the chair, spreading his legs even wider to make room for me. Fingers trembling now, I reach for him. The snap on the jeans is a loud click that seems to echo over my breathing. I stop and close my eyes, trying to calm myself.

His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging none to gently, but the slight pain centres me. He eases the hurt with a caress over my scalp and I smell the tobacco as if he's blown it just across the top of my bowed head. Licking my lips, I can almost taste a bit of the residue from the paper, even though I know it's only an illusion.

He indulges me, though. Tilting my head up, he commands my attention, and I give it to him. I watch as he inhales, the smoking wending up around his tousled hair like a halo. He places the cigarette to the side and leans close to me. The smoke gently wafts out of his mouth.

"Breathe."

And I do. I breathe in the misty fog, tasting airy tobacco and cloves, and then the reality hits me as his mouth closes over my own. I lick at him, drowning myself in Harry and the cigarette and his control. The kiss is short lived and I accept another hit of smoke before he leans back, his fingers still clutching my hair.

Steadied by his hold on me and the introduction of the smoke, I lower his zip. Each click of the teeth is amplified by how slow I go. My left hand rubs circles on the rough denim over his thigh while my right parts the placket of cloth, reaching for his flesh. I run my tongue across my mouth, again indulging in the taste of my vices.

The scent of aroused male washes over me like a wave, like the smoke he's blowing in my direction. I breathe deeply of both smells, enjoying the heady sensation of knowing that he'll keep hold of me and that he'll smoke even faster once my mouth mimics his own motions.

I glance up, waiting, watching as he moves the cigarette closer. He nods. My tongue graces over the tip of his cock, just as he touches it to his mouth. He sucks hard, the filter crushing between his lips as the cherry brightens and then I take him in. Just the head, mind you and I tongue the slit coaxing a bit of fluid from him. 

The salty-bitter-sweet taste of him explodes in my mouth, and I know that I won't be able to go slow. The air is becoming thick with smoke, sex and sweat, the scents mingling and combining, mixing like a potion that will be my undoing.

I take him deeper, licking and sucking every inch of his cock into my mouth and throat. He hums and I give the vibrations back to him enjoying the rumble of sounds that escape him. Easing off, I kiss the head, nipping at his foreskin. His fingers grip my hair and pull me back to him, and I gladly take him in once more.

Relaxing my mouth, I open for him and he thrusts. His motions nearly cut off my air, but it's a give and take. Again. He withdraws and I breathe, holding it while he shoves forward. He speaks, the words just slightly muffled from where he's clenched the cigarette between his teeth.

"Touch yourself for me."

My relief is evident as I tug on my pants and release my prick. My fingers hold tight to my cock and when he pushes back into me, I stroke with him, suck along his length. Smoke, sex and Harry, the addictions I can't quit and I don't want to.

I can taste him more clearly now, pre-ejaculate coating my tongue, and I swallow in anticipation of the rush of fluid from him. He moans and I echo it, driving us both faster toward completion.

Another pull at my hair is my only warning and I withdraw just as he pulls away. Then he orgasms, semen hitting my lips as he finishes by stroking himself, the remains of the cigarette burning away in the ashtray on the table beside his chair. Opening wide, I catch each burst of come, once more swallowing down the sweet-salty-bitterness of him. 

He sags and speaks. "Now, Draco."

With one final tug, I come, aiming for his feet. He flinches slightly as the hot spurts cover his toes. I lean forward, certainly not collapsing, and lick a strip up his left foot and then straighten. He leans down and slants his mouth over mine. Smoke and semen finally mix and we moan together. His tongue swipes across mine, tasting me, tasting us both as I eagerly devour him and end the tormenting pleasure of our game.


End file.
